Two Weeks: Day 1
by Gimme Mocha
Summary: People are animals, says Iron Bull, and you can tame a woman like you'd tame a horse. Evelyn doesn't believe him. Challege accepted. (This one's not filthy. Day 2 is now posted at Archive of Our Own, since it's MA & against 's policies.)


"That's disgusting!" Cullen's voice rang clear, echoing off the walls of the nearly deserted bar room.

Evelyn stopped, glancing in the window of the inn.

"You're just uptight. And repressed. It's a Ferelden thing," Iron Bull said. He rocked his chair backwards, mug of ale in his hands. All of his massive muscled weight was supported by two thin chair legs that creaked in terror.

Dorian toasted Bull with his own mug. "It's true," he agreed. "Fereldens are all closeted about something or other."

"I am not uptight," Cullen said. "But I know better than to treat a woman like some kind of … of hound!"

"I notice you don't have a woman at present," Bull said. "You might want to think twice before telling us all how much you know about them."

"He's got you there, Curly."

Evelyn gave in to her curiosity and opened the door. All eyes turned to her. Cullen flushed a bright red and covered his face with his hands, Dorian waved, Bull grinned, and Varric actually started laughing. Her eyebrows rose. "Do I want to know?" she asked.

"No!" Cullen said explosively.

"Pull up a chair, Inquisitor," Varric said. "Tiny here was just regaling us with tales of how to woo a woman."

"Or a man."

"Right, Dorian. Sorry. My mistake. Or a man."

She hesitated, her hand on the back of a chair to Bull's right. "Oh dear. I'm not certain I want to hear this."

"This is hardly an appropriate discussion to have in front of a lady," Cullen said, glaring at the large Qunari. "Maker's Breath, it's not even an appropriate one to have in a dockside whorehouse."

"Been to a lot of dockside whorehouses, have you?" Varric asked.

"I'm not that repressed," Cullen said. He rose and offered his arm to Evelyn. "Shall we go?"

Bull shook his great horned head. "You might want to hear about this, Inquisitor. It's good, solid people handling."

Evelyn hesitated, looking at Bull's lazy grin, Varric's dancing eyes, Dorian's studious good cheer and Cullen's mounting fear. She shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry, Cullen, but I have to know."

"There are only three steps to mastering a lover," Bull said loudly, drowning out Cullen's protest. The legs of his chair slammed to the ground. He leaned close to Evelyn, his chin dipped slightly. He gaze met hers and held it.

No one spoke.

Slowly, he smiled, baring just a hint of teeth. "Step one," he said, voice low, intimate, rough. "Establish dominance early."

For no reason she could name, Evelyn felt her cheeks warm and her pulse flutter. Uncomfortable, she looked down, then away. Cullen was flat-out seething, jaw clenched tight enough to break teeth. Dorian contrived to look bored, though she could see the snap of his dark eyes moving between her and Bull. Varric was eyeing her with an avid sort of curiosity, though most of his expression was hidden behind a large metal tankard.

"Step two!" Bull proclaimed, sitting back.

"What?" she said, blinking. She frowned at Varric's rueful headshake. "That wasn't step one."

"Uh huh," the dwarf said, flipping a gold coin to Dorian who caught it in mid-air.

Bull continued. "Never let yourself be associated with anything but pleasure. And by pleasure, I mean—"

"We know what you mean!" Cullen interrupted.

"And step three?" Bull looked at Evelyn again, his smile slow and confident. "Take what's yours."

She had no intention of looking away this time, and arched a dark eyebrow at him. "That's it? That's the sum of your genius advice? Take it from a woman, gentlemen: He's an idiot."

Bull seemed unconcerned with her critique. "Eh, it's all in Step Two, really. There's a bit about mastering yourself before you can master someone else and all."

"He neglected to mention the part where you treat her like a dog," Cullen supplied.

"If anyone says you run her until she drops…"

"No no," Varric said. "It's much more complex than that."

"Exactly, Varric! Glad you were listening. You see, Inquisitor, people are animals. When you remember that fact and treat them like animals, they respond beautifully."

She eyed the giant Qunari. "All right," she said slowly, "explain that."

He flashed his grin again, this one tinged with a hint of triumph she didn't quite trust.

"Since our Commander here doesn't like the hound analogy, let's use horses."

"Blessed Andraste, let's not."

"Pipe down, kid, and listen to your betters. All right. Some women, you see, are like draft horses."

Both Evelyn's eyebrows crawled up her forehead. "They're like _what_?"

"I tried to warn you," Cullen said.

"Draft horses," Bull continued. "They're basically good and sweet. A little gentleness, some kindness, a steady hand, that's all they need."

"A bucket of sweet feed," Varric said wryly.

"A good dinner never hurts," Bull agreed.

"Maker," Cullen groaned, dropping his head to the table with an audible thunk.

"And some women," Bull said, "are like those hot little desert breeds, all fire and snapping teeth and lashing out. You've got to be quick with those sorts, and being nice won't get you very far. You've got to be patient and firm, make it clear you won't put up with their shit. But you can't be cruel. One hint of anger or frustration, they'll bolt and you'll never catch them then."

Bull fell silent, looking at Evelyn.

Evelyn looked back, chewing on her lower lip.

"Go ahead and ask," urged Varric.

"I have to ask," Evelyn said.

"You absolutely should ask," Dorian said.

"Please don't ask," said Cullen, voice muffled against the table.

"What sort am I, then?"

Bull's smile was lazy and feral. "Ah, well now you, Evelyn… You're one of your high-bred coursers; all long legs and arched neck and silken mane. You're too proud to come willingly to the bit and bridle. You have to be coaxed. Soothed. Caressed. You'll shake and sweat at the touch of leather, but once mastered, you'll give a man a ride that's second to none."

His finger stroked her jawline. She blinked a few times, trying to process when he had gotten so close. "You may let another man ride you," he murmured in his deep, husky bass, "but only one can ever master you, and for him, you will give everything, and answer to his slightest touch."

His touch paused under her chin. The pressure increased slightly, and she found herself leaning forward, following where he led.

"Two weeks," Bull said, rough and low. "In two weeks, I could teach you, train you, own every exquisite inch of you and you would love me for it."

Her eyelids grew heavy and fluttered, slowly closing. She heard his hum of pleasure, tasted his breath on her lips.

"Enough!"

Cullen's voice snapped her back to reality, back to the bar room and the people in it. Evelyn jerked away from Bull and to her feet. The chair toppled over behind her, the sound of its clatter the only one in the bar room. She drew in a ragged breath, glanced at the others without really seeing them, and walked out into the cold air of Skyhold's frigid night.

She stopped with the door shut behind her, one shaking hand rising to her chest to measure pulse and rapid breaths. Through the window she heard the sound of another chair being pushed back.

"I wouldn't, Commander," Bull said. "Never chase a spooked horse. You'll only make them run farther."

"I honestly cannot decide if that was impressive or terrifying," Dorian said slowly.

"Little of both," Bull conceded. "People are animals. They really don't like to be reminded of it, though."

"Two weeks, huh?" Varric asked.

"One, if I was in a hurry. But some things are worth the time."

Two weeks. Evelyn shuddered and walked toward the keep, trying not to run.

**(In case you didn't see the notice on the front page of this, the rest of the story violates this site's content policies as it does contain explicit sex. Subsequent chapters are being uploaded to Archive of Our Own, search for username Gimmemocha. DO NOT BOTHER TO TRACK THIS STORY. There will be no updates here.)**


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